Monday, August 9, 2010

The Scales Are Shifting In My Favor... Finally

For the first time in recent memory, my weight has fallen below the recommended published maximum human tonnage that should be cradled in a Kermit Chair. I celebrated this fact by setting up my Kermit chair in the garage and by plopping my ponderous ass in it. In the interests of accurate reporting, it should be noted that the chair stoically supported my mass (as it has always done), but still did so under a measure of audible protest.

Riding buddy Dick Bregstein was present for this historic moment, and was even given the honor of sitting in the chair first. (The fact that the Kermit Chair looks like it’s made out of spindly sticks gave Bregstein the willies. He sat in it for two minutes and looked like he expected his ass to go crashing to the floor momentarily. This is hysterical as Dick weighs less than 50 percent of my body mass.) So I sat in it, and had the satisfaction of wiping that smug look off his face when absolutely nothing comical happened.

The Kermit Chair is the unofficial but de facto folding seat of BMW rallies. It resides in a cylindrical sack 22” long, and about 4”x”6 square. While no one will discuss the mystic engineering principles behind this great piece of motorcycle furniture, it is widely acknowledged it harnesses the same construction techniques found in the timeless Hagia Sophia.

But this column is not about the Kermit Chair... It is about my weight. Under the threats of a kindly cardiologist, who described me as “one of the fattest fucks he had ever seen,” I am shedding poundage. The effects of a 5-week regimen, during which I ate little more than the sort of shit fed to political prisoners in countries where 6-year-olds are given guns to fire off in the street, are becoming visible. For example, the local fire department no longer has to use the “jaws of life” to pull my motorcycle out of my ass at the end of the day.

There are some other hopeful signs as well. My Joe Rocket mesh riding jacket is starting to hang on me. Its Velcro adjusting tabs at the waist are slack at the half-way mark. Three years ago, I had to order the largest size they had (5X), and the damn thing was tight. I remembered feeling grateful that I was able to find anything in my size. In the handy 5X “aquatic mammal size,” this well-made, protective garment uses the same amount of netting as a Japanese tuna trawler working the Marianas Trench. You could build a tornado bunker with the armor that is sewn into this jacket.

Some weight is coming off my ass too, but that is bringing on other changes. I went for a ride on Saturday and nearly dropped the bike two blocks from the house. Various maneuvers executed while riding my K75 can sometimes push my wallet out the top of my back pocket, and I have since grown to love Harley-style billfolds that I can chain to my belt. Well my custom fat-man seat felt a little odd to me last weekend, giving my ass the distinct impression that I was sitting differently. The delightful Russell Day-Long Saddle requires the rider to slide forward in a stop to flatfoot the bike. (This is normal and is clearly stated in the promotional literature for the saddle.) I approached my first full stop at a busy corner and couldn’t move up on the seat. The edge of my fucking Harley chain wallet got caught under the fat man wings on this seat, pinning me in place. I pulled my shapeless ass free with a mighty heave just as the bike lost all forward momentum at the stop. I got both legs down without a nano second to spare. I barely had time to say, “fuck.” And I’m telling you, I couldn’t repeat this stunt if I tried.

This would have been one of those stupid drops that occasionally happens to everyone. I got the bike over to the side of the road, and counted to sixty in the shade. Then I took the wallet off my belt and zipped it into a coat pocket.

It has taken me six weeks to break free from the siren song of fast food, the false comfort of ice cream, and the urge to buy cupcakes in the 12-pack institutional size. No more will I sit down and eat a pound of pasta. There were times when I would find myself stalling at the keyboard, and headed out to McSwine Burgers for lunch, where I would eat two “Big Lard” burgers, plus fries, only to chase these down with a package (or two) of TastyKake chocolate cupcakes. Another tactic to tempt the muse would entail downing a pint of Hagen Daz ice cream, sometimes twice a week.

I encased my body in a slab-fat prison... And gradually destroyed my knees, hips, and back. If a normal man my size were to weigh 200 pounds (and that’s pushing the Teutonic ideal by at least 3 five-pounds bags of lard), he would be going through life carrying the equivalent of a no-frills kitchen stove on his back. Just imagine getting on the back of K75 — wearing a stove for a backpack. Or climbing every flight of stairs — with a kitchen stove on your back. Or sitting on the can, with a kitchen stove in your lap. There are very few daily functions that are improved by carrying a stove around.

The absurdity of the image is such that one is compelled to ask the question, what took so fucking long to wake up? The hard part was in acknowledging that I have an addiction... And that my addiction is tantalized by commercials on television, images on billboards, pages in magazines, and the char-broiled aroma of meat on a grill that is in the air everywhere. This last one is usually accompanied by the scent of hot french fry oil, that one occasionally rides through, especially in seaside resort areas. These torments are surmounted by my own horrible fears — that I cannot write without having a bag of cookies alongside my computer.

Well the spell is broken. I have decided to drop the stove.

It took three weeks of withdrawal headaches to turn my back on McDonalds and Burger King. The urge to just drive in one of these places at lunchtime, in the late afternoon, and or any time I went past one was damn-near overwhelming. But I started asking myself, “would you rather eat that cheeseburger and fries, or ride your bike farther and faster next year? Would you rather bite into a piglet-sized, pork-flavored chipolte blob, or fit into pants where the belt loops aren’t fashioned from steel-belted radial tires? Would you prefer to savor the shitty thousand island dressing dripping over two cow-flops of fat-ladden Angus beef, or fuck like a jackhammer?

The answers to these questions seem obvious. But fatties hopelessly lost in miasma of grease, salt, and corn syrup usually opt for short-term gratification over the long-term investment. I did. But the best thing about the past, is that it is in the past.

My addiction has always included a mad craving for Chinese food. There are no commercials for Chinese food on television. It is a kind of morphine-comestible that needs no advertising. Authentically prepared Chinese food, which is served with great elán, delights the senses like a 22-year-old runway model, wearing naught but perfume.

I finally managed to turn my back on it, but not by going cold turkey.

There is a very chummy neighborhood Chinese restaurant within a few blocks of my home — The Oriental Pearl. They serve a lot of dishes that are the preferred staples of an aging US clientele. But not to me. The kitchen staff of four highly-motivated chefs has taken to inviting me to their lunches. I would eat whatever they ate, and what they eat is an epicurean’s delight. (I am very chummy by nature and a chummy neighborhood restaurant is my second home. I do not speak Mandarin, but a wide-eyed smile or a laugh needs no translation.)

Sadly, I had to ring down the curtain on this delightful and rare mark of respect. Now, if I were inclined to order the fried dumplings, a chef would stick his head out of the kitchen door and say, "No can do, Jack. You too fucking fat."

Above — "John" the extremely talented sushi chef at the "Oriental Pearl" in West Chester, Pa takes the time to execute a work of art in raw fish. Fish oil is allegedly good for my joints and I prefer it in the original containers.

Now the sushi chef — an extremely talented individual with the unlikely name of “John” — prepares my lunch three times a week. It is “Konne Salad,” a delightful blend of lettuce, cabbage, and raw fish, garnished with salmon roe and bonita flakes. There is a kind of dressing, but it barely moistens the other ingredients. This is accompanied by six pieces of sashimi (raw tuna, yellow tail, octopus, and cooked eel). There is no rice and I drink water with this meal. The liberal use of wasabe guarantees a fiery finish to each bite of fish. This has become my main meal of the day. I seldom eat more than four or five ounces of meat per day anymore, and have replaced cookies, cupcakes, pie, and York Peppermint Patties with peaches, plums, and slices of melon.

Above — "Konne Salad" incorporates the rawest and freshest ingredients available on a daily basis. This is a fish , lettuce, and cabbage salad, garnished with salmon row and bonita flakes. It is barely moistened with an Asian-style dressing and presents a nice change from the lettuce and tomato salads I make at home.

The net result is that I have been losing something less than a half-pound every other day. This doesn’t sound like much but it assumes a different perspective when you consider my arthritis prevents me from exercising, and that the scales has been climbing the other way for 20 years. I cannot be the first person to find himself in this situation, and I won’t be the last. But I am determined to help other fatties like myself, who are no longer content to be regarded as big, sweaty, shapeless bags of shit, who can barely mount their motorcycles.

Above — "Today's Plate, Tomorrow's Bait," this "diet plate" features the finest cuts of raw tuna, yelow tail, salmon, octopus, and eel (cooked). With the salad, this has become my main meal of the day, three days out of the week. It has started to become over-filling, which means I will eliminate the salmon in the weeks to come.

I have devised the Jack Riepe “Special K-75 Lifestyle Regimen.” It is not a diet, nor is it a concentrated exercise program. It is a radical new philosophy that uses the basic elements of mental persuasion that is so effective in the North Korean political penal system.

Step #1:Take Accurate Stock of Yourself!

How can you tell if you are a fatty?

If you are a man and resemble the Capitol Building when you lay on your back, than you are a fatty. If you are a woman of average height, and your profile is dramatically different from that of Courtney Cox on “Cougar Town,” then you’re getting there. Male fatties come in three sizes:

Overt Slabatiousness — You are too fat to participate in social events in which animal magnetism is a driver for conversation or reproduction;• Symptoms: you’re more interested in the free lunch at the BMW dealer’s open house then in looking at the hottest women’s asses in leather pants waiting to mount the S100RR.

Obvious Bloatosis — You're so fat that everyone concludes you are also stupid, disgusting to be near in a warm crowded room, and least likely to have any insight about anything other than food; if you have a job, they hide you in the back;• Symptoms: you sit on an office chair on rollers, and push yourself back 300 feet, using binoculars to check the oil level in your K-75 sight window, as opposed to getting down on your knees to do it.

Fat Shitbagitis — This where you are so fucking fat that without the physical constraints of your clothing (something no one ever wants to think about), you take on the parameters of the universe; the tides are affected by your proximity; and without a line of bullshit as long as the Great Wall of China, you become invisible to members of the opposite sex. In fact, you have almost no social standing whatsoever, especially in a species that was meant to be lean. People wonder what you would have been like if you had lived.• Symptoms: Advanced Shapelessness and Purposelessness — You’d rather sneak out to the House of Pancakes than try and knock off a piece first thing Saturday morning, because the double ham steak and grease-soaked potatoes can’t escape by waking up. Your arms become useless for most things, like the arms on a tyranasaurus rex. All they can do is feebly direct lard-covered shit into your maw. In fact, it is easier for you to eat by shoving your head into the pots, and wiping your mouth on the stained potholders. Fatties in this phase dream of the days when they were more athletic, at 300 pounds, and could still fit up against the drive-up window at Dunkin Donuts.

Now this isn’t to say that all fatties really are stupid, evil smelling, sweat-soaked, shit-heads, incapable of rational thought and engaging conversation — but they might as well be. Society (the thin club) rationalizes that if we know all this and are still fat, then something must be wrong with us. They are correct in that regard. There may be a thousand different reasons why fatties are the way they are. None of them are good. I may succeed at losing weight this time. I cannot get up in the morning without thinking of all the years I wasted, almost 30 of them, as each meal added another layer of prison to my body. I used to think of all the really pretty women I managed to lay as a fat man... It never occurred to me that they were as magnanimous as they were romantic — and hopeful.

The truth is that eating provides a baseline level of gratification that is easily within reach, offers no challenge, threatens no refusal, and does not come with an immediate sense of failure. That sense of failure comes later, like when you have to put on last year’s suit for a wedding or a funeral, and you are forced to conclude they are someone else’s clothes... Or when you go to sit in a booth at a restaurant, and it is too tight... Or worse, when a friend pulls up in a car that is smaller than your pants.

Step #2: Stop Eating Anything That Made You Think You Felt Better Yesterday!

1) This is why I can’t ride my bike like the other kids.2) This is why I look like an over-flowing toilet on hot days.3) This is why I’m wearing those stupid jeans that say “Wide Load” on them as opposed to Aerostitch stuff.4) This is why I feel 40 years older than I am.5) This is why I’m going to be breathless at the top of the stairs.6) This is why I can’t own a motorcycle that has to be kick started.7) This is why whatever it is I have on the end of my fork is going to taste just like the dick of defeat.

Oddly enough, after running through this little realization list (especially point #7) I find I am no longer interested in eating whatever it was I thought I wanted. In fact, I now give something the pass if I have to think about it longer than 40 seconds.

Step #3: Understand why you eat!

Through thousands of years of socialization, eating has evolved into a kind of ritual. It is the forum of family gathering... It is a source of personal peace at the end of the day... It is the artistic expression of the kitchen... It breaks up the work day... It is a communion of friends... It is the foreplay of foreplay. It is all of those things, but ultimately, it is just the prelude to taking a shit. You are eating to stay awake, to fuel the body to perform a number of functions, and to accomplish specific tasks either as work or recreation. Anything else goes straight to your ass, and stays there. (An x-ray revealed 12 intact slices of my last wedding cake dead center on my left butt cheek.) I am now learning to estimate what it will take to fuel my fallen temple of a body, operating at a slight caloric loss at the end of the day.

In theory, I only need a small glass of water, and three prunes a day to survive for the next decade. The perma-fat on my body is as dense as a neutron star. Core samples of my fat, retrieved by the Wilmington Institute of Holistic Dry Cleaning, indicate there is enough energy stored in a quarter inch by 22-foot strip of my gut to air condition the Capitol building for the most productive time both Houses of Congress met last year -- about 11 minutes. But this fat is toxic and must be dissolved in something pure and green, like a slurry of celery, tomatoes, and vinegar.

Not long ago, I wrote a piece titled, “R.I.P. My Youth,” in which I described how I would like to go out, if I knew I only had three days left to live. That piece was horse shit in one major perspective, and I have changed my mind after thinking about it. I have decided that I would rather not die that way — but would like to live that way instead. Instead of dying like a biker/rock star, I’d prefer to live like Attila the Hun. All I have to do is get thin, write a book on how I did it, cash the checks, ride my bike, and get laid twice a day. I defy anyone to find the flaw in this plan.

Addendum:

Twisted Roads is again rewarding its readers with prizes! Two great prizes will be offered for the month of August: A Progressive Suspension & Tire Plugging Kit, and an EZ Tire Pressure Gauge.

1) To compete for the Progressive Suspension & Tire plugging kit, please answer this three question survey:Do you carry a first aid kit? (Yes, Or No)Have you ever had cause to use your first aid kit? (Yes or No)If the answer to the above question was “yes,” did you find it adequate? (Yes or No)

Copy, cut and paste your response to jpriepe@aol.com. Mark the subject line "Tire Plugging Kit." Include your first name and email address. Winners will be selected at random and notified by e-mail.

2) To compete for the EZ Tire Pressure Gauge, just leave a comment at the end of the blog. You can even say, “This blog sucks,” but then I’ll know you were either Chris Wolfe, Scott Royer, or Michael Beattie.

To leave a comment, read through to the blog’s end (sheer torture). For those who see the comments posted, just click on the option “leave a comment.” If you click the “anonymous” option, be sure you leave a readily identifiable name so you can be announced as a winner.If comments are not automatically listed, read through to the end of the blog. At the end you will see something like “15 comments.” Click on the word “comment”. Type in your comment in the space provided. If you click the “anonymous” option, be sure you leave a readily identifiable name so you can be announced as a winner.

• Winners for both contests will be announced on the “Twisted Roads Blog,” on Monday, August 16, 2010.• Winners will be chosen at random.• Relatives and former wives of the editorial staff of Twisted Roads are not eligible for prizes.• No substitutions• Void where prohibited• Prizes are awarded new as they are shipped in their original packaging from the manufacturer. Twisted Roads is not responsible for any defects in awarded prizes, nor for any incidents, accidents, injuries, damages or death perceived to be caused by defective prizes. Riding a motorcycle is a dangerous activity with special risks. We all ride at our own pleasure and peril.• Unclaimed prizes will be held a year. It is up to all contestants to read the Twisted Roads Blog dated August 16th, 2010 to see if they are winners.• Any additional taxes or fees due on prizes are the responsibility of the winners. Twisted Roads is happy to pay for shipping and handling.• Topless contestants who send pictures of themselves usually do a lot better at winning prizes. My email address is posted on my blog. (I dare you.)

70 comments:

Excellent post! As one actively battleing to lose weight over the last four years (diagnosed type 2), your stories sound familiar. 1/2# every other day is a phenomenal rate and it sounds like you found a wonderful "main meal". Something to really look forward to. I haven't found a decent place to get sashimi anywhere in my home town. It sounds like you are motivated to keep going at it and I wish you the best. Speaking from experience, you're going to need more than luck.

Jack,Congrats on your progress!! I'm also in the middle of life changing weight loss although I don't have as far to go as you do, but with a long family history of heart problems it was something I should have paid attention to long ago.

I've always said that loosing weight is harder than quitting cigaretts or maybe even drugs. Those things you can go cold turkey and never have to touch them again. Not so with food. You HAVE to eat SOMETHING to survive.

Hang in there! Maybe for fun you can take Fireballs to the local drag stip and let us know how much quicker you are in the quarter mile with each new weight loss.

I'm down 30 pounds since Christmas and have about 60-70 more to go to get to where I would like to be.

P.S.Would it be "Symtomatic" Slabatiousness — if I happen to be equally interested in the free lunch at the BMW dealer’s open house as looking at the hottest women’s asses in leather pants waiting to mount the S1000RR?

Okay, Riepe. Here's the truth. It was an inspiring tribute to your personal effort to change your previous self-destructive life style. Those of us who demonstrate poor judgment by associating with you on a regular basis have clearly seen a change while suffering eating dull, healthy meals and listening to your constant, out-of-character proselytizing about healthy living. You eat with only one hand, avoid jamming cookies in your former pie hole, and have come to grips with the truth that only a change in life style will enhance your otherwise boring and dull existence. As hard as it is to suffer without eating ice cream sundaes and greasy fried food in your presence, we're with you, Buddy.

You're a man of great girth, and my primary source for shits 'n giggles. While the mass of your ass holds no interest for me whatsoever, I will be interested in seeing what topic/topics you'll use to replace all the "fat fodder" with. Who knows, maybe you'll become Mac Pac's answer to Paula Dean, sans butter!

You're a man of great girth, and my primary source for shits 'n giggles. While the mass of your ass holds no interest for me whatsoever, I will be interested in seeing what topic/topics you'll use to replace all the "fat fodder" with. Who knows, maybe you'll become Mac Pac's answer to Paula Dean, sans butter!

I must add my meager congratulations to these paeans. I hope you can get down for the breakfast Saturday. I'll eat no bread nor potatoes myself. Then you can come visit our place again, pet the chickens, and look sadly at Val's trains. My diet is working, too. And it took about three weeks for me to get over my carb addiction, too.

That is great you are loosing weight. Guys like you are like K75s, they aren't making any more of them and we have to keep the best examples in good shape.

As you know, I lost some weight and I feel a lot better for it. Doctor's visits are a lot easier. In my opinion, loosing weight is much harder than quitting smoking or drinking (I have done both) as you can quit. You can't quit eating.

From reading your blog it sounds like you have seen the light and have made the proper changes. Good luck.

Good progress Jack! I recently had a disagreement with the scale at the doctor's office. I climbed aboard and this electronic voice boomed out "One at a time please." So I guess I need to get on the bandwagon as well. So maybe we can look forward to seeing less of each other. Dicky B. will have to find some other sucker to run blocker for mini vans :-)

As a man with a similar build, my daughter has actually introduced me as Buddha to her friends I understand where you are coming from. In both the gaining and the losing of the weight.

I too endeavored to reach the nirvana of thinness our society demands and succeeded. I lost 30% of my weight through exercise and a very strict diet. I kept it off for one summer before falling prey tot he seductive siren song of a bag of powdered sugar donuts. It was a slippery slope that started with one donut and then the bag and before long I had regained my stove plus an additional set of pots and pans.

I don't have an answer for this health trap but be forewarned that it is out there and waiting. Based partially on my own health issues and your shining example I will be starting my weight loss program tomorrow.

I am so proud of you. I've always thought you were a very fat fuck... so now you are just a fat fuck... and on your way to being just a fuck! I'm behind you all the way... way behind! And laughing all the way! And boy it felt great saying fuck so many times!

Another great posting though you were a bit hard on yourself. Americans, and I count myself as one (by choice, not by chance), live in a culture where food is not only within easy reach, but we're constantly bombarded by ads luring us to the "all you can eat" places.

I applaud your progress so far and hope it continues unabated, nay, develops even more momentum downwards.

I'm very proud of you! I read your post right when I needed encouragement myself with my own struggle to lose weight to reduce my cholesterol. You are doing a great job...and your attitude is exactly right. It is a lifestyle change, not a diet. Keep up the great work. Thanks for sharing.

I found the repeated mentions of your fundament to be disturbing, to put it mildly, but I have no doubt you will succeed at this endeavor just as you have succeeded in riling up 97% of all known readers of my blog. I look forward to kicking you to the ground in october and making sausage out of your skinny ass (there we go again...).

It'll be good to have you around for many more years to entertain us with your witty blog and such.Yeah, I know some people won't agree with that, but fuck'em. I don't care what others think, as I've noticed neither do you.

Thanks for reading my tripe and for leaving a comment. My new stunt is to eat the same stuff just about every other day, and I have stopped thinking about it. The weight loss is painfully slow, but there will be a big payoff in about a year. And I'm not ding anything else anyway. I m,ay as well be another year older, but a lot thinner.

Love all the descriptions and definitions you gave in this piece! I, too, have been told to lose weight to help with my back/hip problem. But I am addicted to Wavey Lays's chips. I'm pulling hard for you, Jack!!

Looking at the word verification word...isn't "wizesses" German for wise asses??

Soon to be skinny Dude,I tried to post a comment yesterday, but it apparently didn't go through, or maybe you deleted it 'cuz you didn't like it. But anyway, Congrats on losing some and keep up the effort. For me, it has been a long haul, but has been worth it.

Unlike you I have been dipping into the chocolate every day when I get home from work. I also grab a handful of "ms Vickies" delicious kettle fried chips. I call it the chocolate and Chip diet. I supplement my diet with hamburgers and other low calorie meals

Jack, congratulations on the newly discovered lifestyle. Without planning it, you have become a motovational leader for weight loss, to those requiring a kick in the butt to start the journey, you are now on. I wish you continued success.

I'm assuming this is Gay Kline. Gay, had you seen me in my prime, you'd still be thinking about it. It is unlikely I will dye my silver hair. As it is now, it suits my disposition as being a cross between Lee Marvin and Captain Kangaroo.

I would be surprised to discover that I was the motivational leader for anything, other than a raging good time on a weekend. But I had to make a change, and I am doing the best I can at it now. All I want to do is ride my bike farther and faster.

The difference between you and me is that I don't dip... I inhale, until the chocolate and the chips are gone. Leslie is absolutely amazed that I haven't hit her stash of ice cream yet. And the truth is that I have prefer to see the scale drop as opposed to the temporary relief provided by ice cream. It took six weeks for me to get to this point and I don't want to have to start over.

I founbd that someone had posted two of the same comments by mistake. And when I went to remove one, I must have hit yours in error. And it is an error I regret. I woulds much rather have erased Conchscooter's drivel instead. I have 146.5 pounds left to go. My target date is July 1, 2010.

The addictions change over the years. Sometimes we replace old ones with new ones... And sometimes we just stop giving a shit. I remember a friend of mine, who chased a particular skirt for years. When the great moment came, and she was doing a slide tromboner solo, all he could think about was the expired parking meter next to his car. Middle age does funny things to all of us.

I canceled my late August Lake Plaid trip. You ahould plan on riding down here. And bring Cantwell with you.

Thank you for your kind note of encouragement. The first and last time we met, I was walking on a cane and limping like the wreck of the Hesperas. The next time our paths cross, I will have ridden my bike to the Pacific, where I will have tossed my cane into the surf.

In truth, I just got tired of having both halves of my ass hang down into the back wheel. My last two runs were pathetic, in that I had difficulty in puling off 60 miles. I want to do the 400-mile day again.

With any degree of luck, the only thing you will remember of my skinny ass in October is that you couldn't pass it with that Triumph. Will you have the oil leak repaired by then? If not, I'll put cat litter down in the garage. But I'm going to sell tickets first. No one in my club has seen a motorcycle that leaks oil.

You look like a model, and I'm sure the three pounds you are attempting to lose will pass. Thank you for your encouraging note. I always thought you were under the impression that I was something of a sexist pig.

My true motivation for losing weight is so I can fit in your sidecar for a tour of the mountain roads in Colorado. You'd need a mallet to get me into the hack now. And then I'd be a permanent adornment. Thanks for your encouraging note.

You are so right on every count. I am a fat fuck, and it does feel good to deal with the extreme truth every now and again. I look forward to riding with you at some point this year. Thanks for your kind note.

I have slid down that slope many times. And it has been through donuts, cookies, ice cream, or Chinese food. But there reaches a point where it all becomes quicksand. And I want to ride my K75 to the Pacific.

Hopefully, I can stop off in Texas. You can meet me in Galveston. That's a great town.

The only regret I have is that there is absolutely nothing I can eat, in moderation or otherwise, down at the Himalayan. I will be delighted to get down to 200 pounds, but I will still be 10 pounds overweight. I will never have the satisfaction of looking like Mahatma Ghandi.

Thanks for the kind note of encouragement. This latest attempt on my part is long overdue. And I'm afraid it's way too late for this season. But I expect to hve the riding season of a lifetime in 2011.

Congratulations!! You are doing a great job. As other have attested to, it is hard, will be hard and ain't no fun. But "hard" will have so many new meanings going into the future...given one of your wishlist items. Something to do with a jackhammer?? :) Great work and you are inspiring me to do the same. Let's just see if I will actually start. LOL -Lori

I had an incentive to get started... Chest pains and the inability to ride my bike very far. I think the trick is to learn from somebody else's experience. For me, I can hardly wait until next summer. In fact, I can hardly to wait to get under 300 pounds, wheb I plan to start some gentle exercising.

This is the beginning of the end. Next year, we will do another 400-mile day and it will have a happy ending. My riding can only improve from this point forward. Of course, this gets you out of buying lunch for a year too.

Thank you for your kind words and for being a dedicated reader of this blog. As you know, Twisted Roads has built a strong followimng of readers, based on our reputation for telling it as we see it, or as it should be, in my opinion.

And in keeping with this great tradition, we limit the pictures of fatties to mine.

I may be fat, but I am wiry. The day I give up on women will be the day that one has plunged a knife into my heart. (And they do try, every now and again.) You just squeaked by and got entered into the EZ Tire Pressure gauge contest.

I have severe reflux (GERD--an acronym that has none of the popularity of ADD or AIDS or PTSD or so forth) and cannot eat normally; I am mostly on a diet of protein drinks and mush and have been for two years. This disease forced me to give up junk simply because my esophagus does not act normally in many instances and eating is laborious and can result in painful and disruptive acid "backatchas."

I found that, except for the odd craving, I no longer have any interest in food in general. It exists as fuel and that's that. After a while, your body will adjust to the new agenda and you will lose the taste for the fast-food crap. You will no longer sweat fried onions and, as for those Tasty Kakes, they are so out of style as ass fashion.

Mr. Riepe, I'm obviously reading archieved stories by the timing and lateness of this reply, but after finally checking out your blog, I happened across this very honest and inspiring personal piece. I've come to looking forward to each and every "Jack the Riepe" column in BMW ON, and now I am able to read your numerous previous posts. Your blog has become a routine part of my day. Enouh buttkissing for now, but my point in writing this is to say that in addition to you later hilarious writing nature, I now feel especially impressed with your personal strength and your fortitude as a person. This seems weird to say, but I'm also very proud of you after reading this account of how you looked in the mirror, made a difficult, but wise decision, and tacken on what has to have been a very foreboding task of changing a lifestyle. Congratulations from the bottom of my heart and best wishes as you continue with your impessive effort. A friend and fan you haven' met yet.Curt

i too have lost some weight, from 204 to 180. you are an inspiration i'd just about given up hope of losing more but after reading your story and looking at myself in the mirror, am determined to go ahead and rid myself of 10/15 lbs of bacon.thanks

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About Me

BMW Rider, humor writer, and and a public relations specialist to the business travel sector, I have made a career out of telling it like I see it for the past 30 years! A member of the mileage-crazed Pennsytlvania-based Mac-Pac, my motorcycle stories have been published in various venues, and in the BMW Motorcycle Owners of America's monthly publication — the Owners News. I am also the author of "Politically Correct Cigar Smoking For Social Terrorists," a book on men's sensitivity.